Or the other way around. This is a true story of what happened.

I finished up a great project for the United Fruit company in Puerto Armuelles Panama, on the Chirique peninsula, and Costa Rica. I guess it was one of the best projects I had been on in a long time. The greatest camp to be had, in a banana republic. My own villa and the finest surroundings a person could ask for, and my transportation through the jungle and banana groves was my own small narrow gauge personal train with driver.

When I had my final reports written and arraigned for the equipment to be shipped to Colombia, I flew into Guatemala City and spent a week enjoying a visit with old friends tramping through the jungles looking for ancient ruins and artifacts. Then on to Mexico city where I rented a car for more relaxing and touristing.

Finally I ended up in San Antonio a couple of weeks after my departure from Panama, and was admonished by “the powers that be” as to where I had been, as they were waiting for me.

I was told that they needed me to go up to Pennsylvania immediately, where the area manager had not taken a vacation in almost two years and they wanted me to replace him, while I awaited my next foreign assignment.

So my next stop was Pittsburgh. I picked up a rental car and went to the small town of Manor about 30 miles out. They had set up an office in an old brick distillery building in more or less a residential neighborhood, on the edge of town. I met the office personnel and settled into my new digs for a month or two.

The rest is in my poem and it is almost verbally exact for what happened starting about 3:30 that same day.



Oh what a beautiful story,
at least it is to me,
because it is about my glory,
and how it came to be.

After traveling the world for years,
a carefree time, so full of fun.
In bright sunshine most of the time,
a cheerful bachelors life I had begun.

But fate brought me way up north,
to Yankee land, with snow so wet,
bundled up for all I’m worth,
miserable and as cold as a man can get.

My first day there, sitting in my chair,
feeling sorry for my plight,
Called to a window by my peers,
“come here and see our daily sight”.

About four thirty, on that winter eve.
“Said it’s time for her to arrive,
climbing that steep hill, you want believe,
slipping on ice, and climbing she will strive”.

“Gather here don’t be late,
it’s time for her bus to arrive”;
but running a bit late, on this date,
getting closer to almost five.

The bus arrived and off she came,
descending, a careful step she took.
I said what a shame, what is her name”~?
With a look, their heads they just shook.

“We call her Ms. Prigmore, nothing more,
we do not know what is her real name,
but she looks like someone we knew before,
so we gave her a name the same”.

The sight of her made me stir,
Bundled up from her head to foot,
but a face so fine, I made up my mind,
I need to get a better look.

Early next morn, standing the snow,
waiting by that cold bus stop
but she did not go, it was no show,
back inside, I had to hop.

The very next day again I would stay,
at my station, waiting for her to come.
Slipping away, she was on her way,
making friends with her would be fun~!

Told her my name and from where I came,
She told me hers in return,
I liked her and hoped she felt the same,
She did, as later I would learn.

Later she confessed, as she was prone to do,
on boarding the bus her girlfriend asked,
who was that man you were talking to,
she said; “I’m aghast, but may be in love at last.”

Just changing names I felt the same,
and over the next few days,
our bus stop love began to bloom,
and blossomed in many other ways.

I will stop here, going farther I fear,
will start another story like a song,
for in another year, with that one so dear,
we started a love life fifty years long.